


Un, Deux, Trois...

by abbyisnotcool



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-10 19:17:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8932051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbyisnotcool/pseuds/abbyisnotcool
Summary: Philip Hamilton had a feeling he shouldn't be duel George that day.Yet, he did.





	1. Chapter 1

November 23rd,1801.

A cold morning. Winter was approaching.

If only Philip Hamilton knew this would be his last day on Earth.

George I. Eacker, a man who was rude and should be punished.

Philip walked up past the Hudson River. Stood there with his doctor and friend. He breathed in the cold fall air, and scanned the area. A nice place for Eacker to die.

Why was he doing this? He had just made fun of his father. He's no killer. But, he must stay true to his word. 

He heard footsteps crunching. There he was. Standing, looking proud. Walking with his group like bandits. He scowled.

"Eacker."

"Hamilton."

He walked to the other side, and watched his friend walk to talk with Eacker's friend. He watched as they talked, and how they got more angry. He watched his accomplice spit at Eacker's and storm back to him.

"Shoot him in the eye."

Philip watched him turn around. He fiddled with the trigger. The weight of this decision seemed to just now way down on him. 'Stupid stupid stupid' he screamed in his mind. 'What wo-' his thoughts were cut off.

"Both of you, back to back."

He slowly dragged his feet over to Eacker. He looked him in the eye.

May the best man win.

They stood. They started moving. Count. Count to ten. 

He thought of a song his mother taught him. 

Back when he was 9. 

The rap.

The piano.

He started moving.

He started singing.

Un 

Deux

Trois

Quatre

Cinq 

Sept

Huit 

 

Neuf

Philip looked up to the sky.

He never did learn 10.

Philip raised his gun to the air. And he saw a barrel pointed at his chest.

Words flashed through his mind.

"I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory."

"If I throw away my shot..."

"Legacy."

"Rise up, I'm running out of time."

"I catch a glimpse of the other side."

"Teach me how to say goodbye."

"Rise up, rise up, rise up Eliza!"

"Raise a glass, to freedom."

"Wait!"

Pain.

"I may not live to see our glory."

As he fell the cold hard ground, he saw someone. 

"But I will gladly join the fight."

They looked...

"And when our children tell our story..."

Sad...

"They'll tell the story of..."

Philip smiled.

"Tonight."

A man. Curly hair. Freckles. A bullet hole through his stomach. He was wearing a American revolution jacket. Strangely, he looked a lot like him.

"On Tuesday the 27th, my son was killed in a gun fight against British Troops retreating from South Carolina."

Father had one with the same hole.

"The war was already over."

A name flashed through his mind.

"As you may know, **** dreamed of emancipating and recruiting 3000 men for the first all-black military regiment."

The letters he found in his fathers closet.

"His dream of freedom for these men dies with him."

"My dearest.." "I am disgusted with everything in this world, except you, my dear..." "cold in my profesions, warm in my friendships, my dear..." "rather than actions, to convince you that..."

"Tomorrow they'll be more more of us!"

I love you..."

"Alexander... are you alright?"

He reached his hand out to the man. The man smiled back, and grabbed him by the hand. Weirdly, the man let go. Philip looked at him, a face of worry and guilt plaguing him. The man chuckled.

"I have so much work to do..."

"Just like your father."

John Laurens.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um a small continuation. Philip at his dying table.

"Stay Alive..."

Philip glanced at then ceiling. Hands on his stomach. He could feel his heartbeat. It scared him. God it scared him.

He could hear yelling in the hallway. His father. Oh god his father. He looked to his side. John followed him. He could feel his hands on his stomach with his. John looked grimly at him. Then the door slammed open. His father rushed in. The look he had on his face made him sure he wouldn't die. With the scream of his name he rushed over. Laurens looked sadly upon Alexander.

"Pa." He croaked, "I did exactly as you said, Pa. I held my head up high-"

He was cut off by murmurs of his father and the shock of the movement of John to the side of Alexander. John slowly wrapped his hands around Alexander. From Philip's perspective, it almost looked as if his father sagged into his hold. Philip regained his mouth.

"Even before we got to ten, I was aiming for the sky. I was aiming for the sky.." Philip felt his eyes fluttering he hears his father murmur something about stay alive when the door swung open with a crash and his mother ran in.

He heard his mother yelling at Alexander. Even at his deathbed, they couldn't stop fighting. He smiled up at Laurens, who looked grimly at the seen unfolding, and glanced at Philip, almost in sorrow.

"Mom, I’m so sorry for forgetting what you taught me.." he felt his mothers gaze turn on him. Laurens moved back to clutching Alexander, peppering kisses on his face. He smiled.

 

He heard himself talking to his mother, but he couldn't make out the words. Oh god. A sob racked his body as he heard the same words he heard in the duel.

"Un deux trois quatre cinq six sept huit neuf." 

Philip slowly repeated after his mother. 

"Good."

She sang again. But this time, he was more focused on Laurens reaching his hand out to him. Again. The first time nothing happened, for Laurens let go of him immediately. He put his hand out. And grabbed it as he said one last word.

"Un 

Deux

Trois..."

He felt himself get up. Smiling, he turned around to look at his mother. But all he saw was his mother still trying to talk to a dead corpse. Philip turned to look at Laurens. 

"I'm so sorry. Oh god I'm so sorry Philip. I wish I didn't take you I didn't want to watch your father cry again. I-I loved him Philip oh go-" Laurens was cut off by Philip hugging him.

Philip smiled with tears in his eyes.

"We did not live to see our glory.."

Laurens sobbed.

"But we gladly joined the fight."

Philip smiled at him tears falling down his face.

"We had no child to tell our story."

As they walked away, hand in hand, hearing the soul shattering scream admitted from Eliza, fading away, they turned to look one last time.

"But they told the story of.."

Laurens looked at Alexander one last time.

"See you soon. Ya see Alex, I like you a lot." Philip chuckled at Laurens.

"Tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuk


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I FUKCING CONTINUED IT AGAIN IM SORRY

The sad realization that his son was dead, did not come to Alexander until his deathbed.

He watched Burr as he aimed his pistol.

He purposely aimed at the sky.

He knew that Aaron Burr would kill him.

Yet, Alexander was still shocked, when he saw a small figure approach him. The footsteps making small crunches.

"You had to choose the place where I died dad. You are so stupid." 

Philip.

Oh god Philip.

He was dead because of him. Yet Alexander seemed to not want to look.

"Ha! He feels so guilty he's not looking up!"

"John my father is dying."

"It is his fault."

John?

John.

John! 

Alexander tried to get up. But, the pain shot through his stomach, and he doubled over.

"Woah! Calm down there dad. Here."

Alexander grabbed a hand. And he was pulled up.

He looked over at Eliza and Angelica, then turned to look at his son. He hugged him tight.

"I'm sorry." Alexander murmured. Philip just smiled.

Alexander let go, and turned to look behind Philip. 

He was there.

John Laurens.

Alexander tackled John, and kissed him. John was mildly surprised, and when that was over, he kissed back. Soon that ended, and they were just pecking over and over.

"I missed you so much." Alexander said in between kisses.

"Yeah well I wAS THERE THE ENTIRE TIME." John started laughing and Alexander sat up, looking confused.

"You looked right at me when you found out I died, oh I was there when you had sex with Maria, the Reynolds pamphlet(I was right there btw), Philip's death, you making up with Eliza, oh a-" John was cut off by Alexander's mouth.

"Okay okay I fucking get it."

"HEY no cursing in front of our son."

"Our son, you didn't even know him when you were alive."

"YEAH but I spent the last four years with him."

"True."

"WILL YALL SHUT THE FUCK UP AND CAN WE GO, I CANT WATCH MY MOM CRY ANYMORE." Philip yelled. John and Alex laughed. They got up.

"Yeah let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUKC

**Author's Note:**

> Jfc I hope I didn't make you cry that much


End file.
